Post Mortem
by Severiona Black
Summary: A series of drabbles related to Sirius's death.
1. The Way the World Ends

Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter, J.K. Rowling does.

* * *

He had always wanted to go out with a band, with a vibrating crescendo and something resembling glory.

He had always wanted to go out with the end of the world; there was something undeniably delicious in the idea that when he died he would take everyone with him.

Though perhaps if he had known that it would end like this he might have reconsidered. But he was not a prophet, not really, and he had never liked the silence.

* * *

AN: Sirius's pov. I know...weird since he died, but I couldn't resist.


	2. Haunted

He died weeks ago, she considered, fell at her hands, and yet…there he was leaning against her wall and staring at her as if he had never been vanquished at all.

He looks almost alive (more so than she), and he is smirking, the demons swimming through his dark, dark eyes.

And he will not leave her, she realizes as the knife stills in her hands and her strength begins to fade. He is still standing there, watching the way her blood drips onto the floor and he is laughing, mocking her, just as he always had.

Her vision begins to fade and yet he is still there, lurking behind her eyes, smiling and whispering to her.

_I will never leave you._

* * *

AN: The last line sucks.


	3. Let it Burn

She suspects that she has always been haunted in a way, scared and tainted, but she thinks that perhaps this may be just a little bit different.

She is not the same as she was then, no longer the bookworm with dreams of freedom in her head, and she has long since let go of her illusion that she can escape either her childhood or the blood that binds her too it.

Only death can cut such bonds, and this has been proven, proven in the way she never felt his loss before, even though she believed him beyond redemption, in the way she never stopped loving him even then.

And she supposes now that there are some things you never get over, some secrets that can never be put to rest, and chaos she considers, can only end in the way it was wrought.

* * *

AN: It's Andromeda's pov if you didn't know.


	4. Fairytales and Sandcastles

She sits in her room and stares out her window, calmly assessing the darkness of the lonely sky. There are no stars tonight and this is fitting, she decides, and utterly ironic.

And she had dreamed of this, she realized, of the princess in her castle and the golden haired prince who loved her, a story she was told when she was young and innocent, still certain that magic meant happily ever after.

But once upon a time has past, and this is not a fairytale…her prince is in prison and she is alone, mourning for the star that she will never see again.


	5. Dream the day away

They are lying on the grass staring up at the starry sky, and in this moment, he is content. Sirius's head is on his shoulder and his hand moves through the air, tracing the constellations against the sky.

He can find them all but his own, and Remus cannot help but think that there must be something predestined in this, some sort of sign he should follow. But he shouldn't know that, he considers, yet he does, and this leaves him with only one conclusion…that he is dreaming.

But so what, he reflects cuddling up to Sirius and watching as a star shoots across the sky. He cannot remember the last time he was half this happy, and he cannot help but to wish on every star in his make-believe sky that he will stay this way forever, quietly dreaming his life away.

The sun rises and he opens his eyes, staring up at the cracking ceiling and marveling at how even now among the drywall constellations he cannot find his star.

* * *

AN: I think it's actually a little long for a drabble, but I really didn't want to cut anything.


	6. Sweet Revenge

He stands, stoic and still, as he is accused; yet inwardly, he smiles. He feels no guilt for the small part he played in Black's downfall and in fact, his only true regret is that he could not commit the act himself.

He would have wished nothing more than to feel his enemy's blood slip through his slender fingers, and hear his last gasping breath before he descended into darkness. He thinks perhaps it would have been the greatest sound that he had ever heard.

Still, he considers, he is honestly quite content in his knowledge that the world is rid of the man…that he is rid of him.

He laughs, finally, and walks away from Potter's startled form, fading into the distance and marveling at how very wonderful his life is, for the first time in years.


End file.
